The burden of its blueprint
The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite, sperhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries.― Jorge Luis Borges, The library of Babel “Until then I had thought […]
The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite, sperhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries.― Jorge Luis Borges, The library of Babel “Until then I had thought […]
From the deepest bramble tanglethere’s a breaking as from bonesand flesh that’s torn away and mangled.Deep in fall when from the stonesthe dead unravel; claiming warmthfrom veins of living bodies, […]
Counting bodiespiece by piece:two armsa head, hands and toesand buckets of fluidmixed with soil,parts distinguishable by DNA,sorted as friend or foe, an aftermathamalgamated intoone collective of pastand passing. … and […]
From mud and gangrene boys we formed to hatethe neighbours, former friends we turned to foes,while we sang songs, made graves, for those whose fatewas death, we left the others […]
The past week autumn colours are falling to the ground, dead leaves sticking to the wet asphalt, leaving skeletal trees as black shadows against an overcast sky. From time to […]
Writing about living in two places (and times)
Poems & Stories from The Author Stew
practising for a whole life
haikai poetry matters
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis